A Summer Escape by Emily Harvale EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Emily Harvale
- Language: English
- Genre: Holiday Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
‘Taking a break!’ Dad roars, repeating my last three words as if they are a
foreign language and he can’t comprehend what they mean. I knew he
wouldn’t be pleased by my decision, but sonic booms make less noise. I’m
surprised the floor-to-ceiling windows in his spacious penthouse office
haven’t shattered. But the glass is toughened. A bit like me.
Other people would be quaking in their shoes, including Mum. I remain
composed. Or as composed as I can be, now he’s cut short my hastily
rehearsed and somewhat lengthy speech. His face is the colour of the
sumptuous crimson leather sofa on which we’re sitting.
A sofa is not Dad’s happy place. Sofas are for relaxing and Dad does not
relax. This sofa is here because the office designer said it would make the
vast space less echoey, when Dad had this towering office block
redecorated ten years ago. If she had said it would give the office a more
homely feel, both the sofa and the designer would have been thrown out.
Dad glowers at me, his fists clenching and unclenching as though he’s
tempted to lash out. But that’s something Dad won’t do. He may be tough;
he may be ruthless; he may be cruel with both words and deeds, but he’s not
a physically violent man.
I cough to clear my throat, yet when I speak, it sounds as if I’ve
swallowed a mouse; all I can do is squeak. ‘Yes, Dad.’ So much for
remaining composed. I inhale deeply and try again. ‘I’m taking a break.’
He jumps to his feet and marches towards his matching leather executive
chair, stopping momentarily as two ravens soar past the expanse of glass.
Dad harrumphs at them and continues to his chair; I watch in silence for a
few seconds as they perform their aerial acrobatics and then swoop down
towards the street, several storeys below.
What does it feel like to be that free? I doubt I’ll ever know.
Many people believe ravens bring illness, loss, bad fortune or even death;
others that they are a symbol of rebirth and starting anew. I’m going with
the latter, obviously. Dad’s possibly leaning towards the first. Or more
likely, neither. Dad isn’t one for superstition and has no time for omens.
He spins round, glares at me with ice in his eyes, and drops into his chair
behind his gargantuan, walnut desk.
‘We’re McBriars, girl!’ There’s contempt in his tone and in his eyes and
the sneer on his face tells me more than any words could, no matter how
loudly they are shouted. Although his voice is an octave lower now he’s
sitting in his chair, dominating the room once more, just the way he likes it.
‘We don’t “take breaks”.’
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